No Mercy
by Zoey Overbeck
Summary: The survivors have trekked through an apartment, a subway, and a sewer, but will they live long enough to achieve salvation in a broken world? Featuring No Mercy's The Hospital and Rooftop Finale on my take on the campaign.


AN: The No Mercy campaign, as well the game "Left 4 Dead" belongs to the Valve Corporation. This is just my take on it during an experimental process (I am thinking of rewriting The Lone Survivor due to my lack of satisfaction with it). Normally, I wouldn't put disclaimers now in my stories, since _Fan_fiction is pretty obvious in the site name- therefore none of the writers here own any of the franchises they are writing their fiction on (that is, unless the creators are here and are writing their own stories). Initially, the first 7,000 or so words were typed with recalling the level from memory. Some modifications were made after I viewed YouTube videos on the level, so there might still be some inconsistencies between this fanfic and the actual layout of the level.

Some BillxZoey parent/child-like relationship is present here.

* * *

><p>Charred, dilapidated buildings rose to the sky like lifeless hands reaching for something that wasn't there. The sky above was overcast, and rain would sometimes fall from the clouds above in a downpour, drenching everything with rainwater. Lightening continually flashed across the sky, illuminating the world for a brief second before everything went dark again. Thunder boomed as loud as the pounding of a thousand drums, echoing in the wells of the otherwise silent world. Fires kindled in multiple abandoned steel oil barrels flickered, casting eerie glows on the fire-damaged buildings burnt by a block-wide fire caused by an electrical short in one of the apartments. Alarmed cars sat silent, while common infected swarmed around them, sometimes leaning against the wall, holding their heads in pain, sometimes fighting with each other, and other times wandering around, vomiting as they shuffled about. Heart-wrenching sobbing echoed within the recesses of an empty building while Smokers coughed as they sought shelter and Hunters growled as they shook the rainwater drenching their sweatshirts, which were matted with dried blood. Besides that, the world was still, and the city of Fairfield within the once lively state of Pennsylvania was quiet. It seemed that nothing was able to penetrate the gloom and utter silence of a once-proud, functioning city.<p>

Not so, as thunderous banging roared through the silent city, accompanied by bright flashes of light. Inhuman howls arose from the streets as dozens of common infected rushed at the source of the disturbance, intent on utterly destroying who or whatever was making that awful racket. A grey shape flew through the air, emitting a loud beeping sound as a bright red light continually blinked on its side. Snarling, the infected rushed at the object in preference, madly clawing it as the beeping grew frenzied. Soon the object exploded, reducing the former humans to nothing more than an array of scattered body parts falling to the asphalt with a sickening noise and a fading red mist. Besides that, only a black scorch mark indicating the pipe bomb's blast radius remained.

Four humans, completely covered in horrid smelling filth after having waded for half an hour through the sewers, made their way through the street that was once littered with infected. Flashlights bobbed as their owners cautiously circled the alarmed cars, being careful to not so much as touch them for fear of attracting a horde of those creatures. While weak individually, common infected could easily gang up and attack in swarms, making them a large threat, especially when they were attracted by the Boomer bile's pheromones, which only activated when it made contact with a live human's skin. The survivors had soon learned that killing the bloated special infected was a priority, and they often had to resort to shooting at it from a distance so they wouldn't get hit by the bile if it exploded while near them. If the infected world was like a bees nest, then the Boomer would have to be one of the defense drones. Once a bee's stinger pierced the skin of an invading macroscopic organism, an alarm pheromone would be emitted, alerting the other members of the colony to the invading organism's presence, whether it would be human, animal, or an insect of another species or colony.

"Into the safe room, people!" one of the four called, indicating the red door with a flourish of his wrinkled hand.

The three obeyed his command, mutely shuffling inside before their leader shut the door with a loud clang, instantly assisting with barricading the door once it was fully shut.

"I'll see peace back on Earth even if I have to murder every one of these bastards with my own god damn hands!" The leader growled as he plopped onto the ground, letting his M-16 Assault Rifle rest beside him.  
>"Keep your beard on, Bill" the biker grumbled, leaning against the wall and resting the newer automatic shotgun he had snatched from the knobbly wooden table positioned nearby beside him. "At least we're alive to kick some ass"<p>

William "Bill" Overbeck merely grunted in response, pulling out a cigarette from the dwindling supply in the cardboard pack and igniting it with a Zippo lighter. The former Green Beret took a long drag on the cigarette, allowing himself a moment's rest from staving off hordes of former humans that had become wild, unruly, and unpredictable as the virus infected all of their systems, reducing them to nothing but raging beasts with no sense of humanity. Running a hand through his thick white beard, he frowned as he was constantly reminded of how he was too old for all this zombie bullshit that had suddenly exploded into existence in the mere span of two weeks. He had reached that point in time years ago when he had toured in Vietnam and all he had received was a knee-full of shrapnel and little else in return for his service to America.

Meanwhile, the biker, Francis, was busy reloading shotgun shells he had snatched from the heaping pile of mixed ammunition for various weapons. He was found in a bar; fighting off his former girlfriend that had been recently infected and had bitten him like a savage animal while they were talking to each other in the back. Grumbling about how the 'vampires' were staining his prized leather vest with their blood, Francis attempted to wipe it off as best as he could, mumbling something about having to clean pieces of brain off of his vest every time they had to go to a rumored evacuation station only to find it abandoned. Toting his worn pump shotgun on his back and an idiotic grin plastered onto his face, he had followed Bill through the city as they journeyed through Fairfield. By a stroke of luck, they encountered Zoey who was hiding in the bathroom of her dorm. She was scared, trembling and clutching a pistol she had somehow obtained- she initially refused to tell them how she had gotten the pistol.

Neither of them had noticed the body of her former roommate slumped against the wall near the doorway with bullet holes in her chest; Zoey had shot three bullets cleanly straight into her heart, thereby ending its miserable existence. While they had noted blood smeared on the edges of her track suit at one point during their conversation while fleeing the University, they did not directly press for answers. Some part of their minds had comprehended that she most likely did not want to talk about it or even bring up the subject at all, but she had surprisingly mentioned that she had gotten it from her father after they had gotten to know each other more as the days passed. She had burst into tears shortly afterward, refusing to continue her story or further elaborate on the subject and angrily snapping when Francis asked where her father was, as more hands meant more chances that they would survive.

Zoey stuck the business end of her Hunting Rifle out of the bars of the safe room door leading into the hospital, prepared to fire off rounds at the common infected who dared approach the red door separating their safe area from the dangers of the hospital. However, seeing that most of the infected humans were wandering in patient rooms, Zoey had nothing to do but clean the weapon off of the accumulated grime, polish the scope of her Hunting Rifle with the cleaner parts of her red track suit, and grumble about the idiots who kept on attaching the scope the wrong way, thereby forcing her to stop and take the time to correct it before the mistake could cost one of them their lives. The college girl took her position on a still-functioning CRT television that now displayed a blank grey backdrop only. Some feeling inside of her had felt pride at being prepared in some form for a zombie apocalypse- staying holed up inside her dorm room all day while watching old horror movies certainly had its perks. While her grades were falling due to her constant absence from class, she felt cold comfort that she had been studying the right subject at all.

Louis was sprawled on the couch, aiming his dual pistols at the ceiling and pretending to fire them off into a crowd of imaginary infected, mowing them all down in a heroic fashion. For years he had been cooped up in an office cubicle, answering calls from people who had an easy to fix problem but didn't know what to do. The majority of his time answering those calls was spent telling the caller to simply reboot their computer. The zombie apocalypse was a blessing in disguise, carrying him away from the sheer boredom of his job as an IT since the day he had failed to persuade Ray, his coworker, to come to work and later encountered his first infected in a bathroom, he had been a sort of expert on firing the weapons he had encountered during his fight for survival. He frowned and furrowed his brows as he recalled his coworkers- Ray included- laughing at him every time he headed to the rifle range to practice his aim. A small smirk danced on his face as he thought about how it wasn't so funny anymore- he could easily fell dozens of infected with only one clip of his SMG and compete with Francis in terms of the number of infected slain before they, the seemingly invincible ragged group of survivors that had managed to make it through multiple waves of almost endless hordes, reached the next safe room.

A solo infected attracted to the light emanating from the room voiced its disapproval by screeching loudly and swinging its claws, scratching at the red safe room door. It slammed its body against the metal door, glaring at the room's occupants with pure hatred evident in its blank milky-white orbs. Zoey skillfully shot a bullet in between his eyes without a word; the infected human slumped to the ground with a final gurgled moan. Bill looked at the young woman with pride- it was not even three weeks ago that the foursome banded together, and already Zoey's skills were showing improvement. Having a police officer as a father certainly had its perks- being able to draw and fire a gun quickly and accurately being one of the most prominent of them right now.

Zoey silently reloaded her Hunting Rifle, turning towards her companions with a look of grim determination. As much as the idea of staying within the safe room seemed appealing to her, there was still a chance that the helicopter that had flown by mere hours ago would still be performing evacuations from this abandoned hospital. After all, if the supposed "Green Flu" didn't blow over by the time they would run out of food from the vending machine, they would have already been left for dead, or so to speak. By that time, there would be a one hundred percent certainty that they would not encounter anymore available sources of help.

"You ready?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement when Louis youthfully leapt from the sofa with enthusiasm that could only come from a man of that level of optimism.

Collective murmurs echoed throughout the room as the three males nodded in succession. Grinning boldly, Zoey strode over to the red metal cabinet attached onto the wall, reached in and strapped on a first aid kit. Digging her hand into the ammunition pile, she fished out a few more bullets for her Hunting Rifle, slung the aforementioned sniping weapon onto her back and drew her dual pistols.

"Let's kick some ass."

Bill removed the pipe barring the door and kicked it open, firing a few rounds into the few wandering infected stumbling about in the otherwise empty corridors. Francis took up his position beside the elderly veteran while Louis and Zoey remained behind them, constantly checking for sneak attacks from behind. The rhythm of gunfire soon chorused throughout the poorly lit hospital and the sweet music of death followed soon after, accompanied by the soft thump of bodies hitting the floor. Blood and intestines from patients and medical personnel alike were showered onto the once-sterile surroundings as the team mowed down infected after infected.

The halls were littered with various patient records, abandoned wheelchairs, and desks shoved into the most inconvenient places imaginable. Posters dictating various parts of the body and their specific areas were plastered all over the medical check-up rooms. Various signs indicating the different patient wards of the hospital hung from the ceiling, some on the verge of collapsing onto the floor below. The survivors' flashlights swept through the empty rooms as all four quickly scouted the patient wards for supplies. Zoey had found a pipe bomb curiously left in a clinic room while Louis rejoiced upon sight of an untouched bottle of Ibuprofen. Francis gave a sly smile as he secured a Molotov cocktail to his belt and gave Bill the bottle of pain pills that Louis didn't take.

"I'm gonna need these" Bill muttered in affirmation, stowing it away in case he needed it later on. "Let's get a move on people!"

Silently, the four cautiously walked through the paper-strewn hallways, being careful to reserve some of the ammunition for their Tier-2 weapons in the unfortunate case of meeting any special infected along the way. In addition, less noise meant less of a chance that the common infected would come pouring out and try to kill them. Zoey swapped positions with Bill, taking point and using her Hunting Rifle to snipe infected that were normally unreachable by the males' weaponry. The foursome worked perfectly like clockwork, using their experience to cover and protect the other members of their group. Their ears pricked for any sound other than their breathing or guns firing, lulling them into a dull sense of security when they heard nothing more as they moved along. However, the growling of a Hunter caught their attention- exactly the thing that a Boomer hiding nearby wanted. The corpulent special infected waddled over to the Survivors, opening its maw and preparing to cover all four of them in foul smelling vomit.

Whirling around to meet the vile creature, Louis panicked upon recognizing the stretched navy sweatshirt and the rotund form and immediately peppered it with bullets. The pressure inside the bloated infected drastically changed, the increasing stress becoming evident on its turgid skin. The Boomer's one visible eye widened the tiniest bit and his throat let out a small whimper of surprise before its vast gut exploded, showering both Louis and Bill with vomit.

"Dammit Louis!" Bill shouted in exasperation, immediately trying to clear his eyes from the foul smelling goo with frantic swipes of his free hand.

Failing that, Bill collapsed into a crouching position, anxiety building up as he counted off the three seconds it would take before common infected swarmed around them like angry bees, answering the chemical war cry of the sentry. Zoey and Francis covered Bill and Louis respectively, using their weapons to lessen the amount of infected that their impaired friends had to deal with; they were restricted to using their melee attacks to prevent friendly fire incidents. Seeing the dozens of common infected pouring out of the halls, Zoey reached for the pipe bomb attached to her belt, lit it with the lighter that she snatched from a pocket in Bill's vest, and threw it into the crowd. The Hunter that had been formerly hiding amongst the crowd of its lesser brethren screeched loudly before it pounced in for the kill, tackling Louis to the ground and beginning to tear at his midsection.

"Ah! Get it off me, get it off me!" Louis's cries were almost drowned out by the deafening roar of the exploding pipe bomb as he was frantically trying to bat away the agile infected's sharp, darting claws before it could do any serious damage. Fragments of the hospital's dirtied white tile flooring flew in all directions, some of the larger pieces smashing into the Hunter, though the infected took little notice of it.  
>"Hold on!" Francis yelled, swinging his shotgun wildly and using the butt of the weapon to smash it into the special infected, causing it to lose its hold on its prey.<p>

The Hunter rolled over backwards, landing into a crouching position and preparing to pounce again.* Francis smirked as he flexed his arm muscles and cracked his knuckles, already prepared for its attack. The Hunter leapt for the leather clad biker, intent on disemboweling him for getting in the way of its kill. However, Francis stopped it dead in its tracks, punching it in the face and sending it flying backwards a few feet. It lay sprawled on the floor, growling when it felt blood drip from its broken nose as it rose and swung its head in Francis's direction, only to find the aforementioned biker preparing to smash it into the next century. Whimpering loudly in defeat as both pain and having its pride hurt, the Hunter leapt away before the group of survivors could make Swiss cheese out of it.

"Yeah, you better run and hide!" Francis called to its retreating form with a derisive smirk. "Little sweatshirt wearing wuss" he chortled, turning his attention back to the trio, who had already polished off the horde. "Alright over there, old man?" he asked, stifling a laugh when he saw the elderly veteran's normally clean and pristine white beard dripping the Boomer's viscous bile.  
>"Yeah, yeah" Bill replied, glaring daggers at the biker as he stood up.<br>"Hello! I need some help here!" Louis called from the floor, waving his single pistol to attract their attention.  
>"I gotcha" Zoey said, already on her way to assist her fellow teammate. "Come on Louis" she encouraged, shifting some of his weight onto her shoulder. "I'm half your size! Get up!"<br>"Thanks, Zoey" Louis gratefully replied once he had regained some of his footing, leaning against the wall as he began to heal himself with his first aid kit.  
>"Anytime"<p>

Presently the foursome made their way into the Atrium, which looked as if a tornado had passed through it recently. The blue-grey walls were covered in blood and dried Boomer bile. Long claw marks that trailed alongside the white painted stripes ominously suggested a Witch that an unfortunate survivor had encountered and had the displeasure of accidentally startling it. Papers were strewn across the carpeted floor; the floor itself was damp from rainwater pouring through a broken pyramid-shaped skylight. The lack of lighting besides the lightning that intermittently streaked across the dark sky cast an eerie effect on the room; everywhere they turned, they were greeted by shadows, which could hide infected within its dark veil and allow the former humans a chance to perform sneak attacks if the four had not been equipped with flashlights. The smell of mildew and decayed flesh that came from a pile of bodies slumped against a wall filled the enormous room. What unnerved the survivors the most, however, was the presence of several chunks of concrete ripped from the floor along with crater-like holes in the wall, which could only have originated from a…

"Tank…" Louis murmured in awe- the Tank's innumerable strength never ceased to both amaze them and strike fear into their heart.

"Stay on your toes, people" Bill commanded as he gripped his Assault Rifle tightly and fired off a few rounds into the wandering common infected littering the room.  
>"Hey, look Bill!" Francis called, pointing to the only means of transportation to the upper levels. "It's your favorite, stairs!"<br>"Speak up Francis, your voice got all muffled from your head being so far up your ass!" the former Green Beret retorted, indicating the stairwell with a small jerk of his M-16. "Why don't you go on up first and we'll follow you?"  
>"I hate stairs" Francis grumbled in reply, moving into his self-appointed position within the group.<p>

Bill took his sweet old time as he limped his way up the stairs much to the ire of a certain biker, who wanted to get straight to killing as many zombies as possible. He was lagging behind Zoey by about forty, while Bill had about as much of a lead as the young college girl due to his assistance in fending off the horde. Since he didn't kill the Hunter, it did not count towards the number of infected he had slain, and his trigger finger was constantly twitching, eager to pump the aforementioned special infected full of lead pellets. Louis had won the last round by using the machine gun the military had left near the generators to fire the last shots into the Tank they had encountered before their escapade into the sewers, thus winning the dark skinned companion his kill. Francis growled at the memory of having his pride as the best 'vampire-hunter' hurt, eager to reclaim some of his lost dignity back.

Navigating through the nearly-empty hallway was relatively easy, though the lack of infected humans was unnerving. Usually during the infection, people would cram into hospitals, thinking that the sterile conditions of the aforementioned buildings would keep them safe from the infection, whereas in reality, the crammed conditions would make it easier for the virus to spread- the more people there were in a given space, the more the chances of infection there were. That type of misguided thinking was what helped the infection spread in the first place instead of slowing it down, as CEDA has demonstrated multiple times by cramming a large amount of people into a single space, like recreation centers, shopping malls, and High Schools.

The loud coughing of a Smoker caught their attention, each member of the group quickly shining their flashlights everywhere in the vain attempt to locate where the Smoker was hiding. It was too late, however; the Smoker had already shot its tongue out of its maw. Zoey shrieked in horror as she felt the familiar sensation of the Smoker's tongue wrap around her torso, wildly firing off a few rounds of her Hunting Rifle in the hopes that one of the bullets would sever the long, thick tongue. The tongue wrapped around her arms tightly; Zoey grunted in annoyance as it forced her to let go of her weapon as she was dragged off of her feet towards the special infected.

The ringing blasts of a shotgun blasted through the messy hallway, echoing loudly off of the bare walls. The Smoker rasped in pain as the shotgun pellets tore through its tongue before it erupted into a cloud of smoke as a hail of bullets descended upon its lanky form. The green cloud of smoke that oozed from the Smoker's deceased form soon spread out into the hallway, completely engulfing the forms of the survivors.

"I gotcha, I gotcha" Francis said in between hacking coughs, helping Zoey up and grinning widely as she stood up on her shaky legs. "Aren't you glad to see me, darling?" he asked, receiving a grateful smile in thanks.  
>"Thanks Francis"<p>

Zoey gave one last look at the tough biker before retrieving her fallen Hunting Rifle and leading the way.

"So… I'm in the lead now, right?" Francis whispered to Louis, who only received a mumbled 'yes' in response as the latter briskly walked by to follow Zoey.

Zoey stopped when she saw the double doors leading to the next segment of the corridor being blocked by hurriedly placed furniture- an attempt by the last living members of the hospital staff to try and stop the inevitable. A glance to the side revealed a stairwell behind a white-painted metal fire door. Nimbly leaping onto a green vinyl sofa, she tried using the wedges between the heavy furniture as leverage to force them aside. Grunting and screwing her eyes in intense concentration, she tried multiple times to get the sofa to move but to no avail. Panting in exhaustion, she turned to her comrades and offered them a small, apologetic smile.

"Sorry Bill, but we've got to take the stairs"

The foursome made their way up the stairs and into another corridor, easily taking down any infected that was unfortunate enough to cross their path, feeling confident that they would be able to get out of the hell hole they once called home. What soon greeted their eyes, however, caught them off guard. There were several rooms that had blood smeared all over the walls and floors, but they were covered in bright yellow tape bearing the word "Caution" written over and over in black ink. Rotting corpses were strewn everywhere, half eaten by the common infected roaming around. Numerous buzzing flies swarmed over them, feasting on the dead flesh and laying their eggs on the open wounds. IV pouches with dark red blood hung from hooked metal objects with "contaminated" written in bright red ink on the yellowed description paper located on the IV pouch.

Isolation rooms' glass was cracked in multiple places and marked with dried blood, a testament to the slowly infected human's loss of sanity and willingness to escape the small confines allotted to them and attack anything that moved. A moveable overhead light that appeared to be used in the operating room hung over one of the isolation rooms, heavily damaged and almost on the brink of falling to the floor. X-Rays were pinned to the walls, displaying various broken bones. The one that caught Zoey's interest, however, was the X-Ray of a patient's left hand, only that the thumb was missing, making the photograph all the more eerie- It had been in the same position as the hand they found next to the bodies covered in Boomer bile earlier today. The overhead lighting was almost totally out, though a better lit area offered some hope in the crushing despair that threatened to overwhelm all four survivors.

Sobbing drifted from the Hospital devoid of all life, save for the survivors and the infected who were housed by the abandoned building. Flinching, the four edged away from the noise, constantly aware of the Witch's sobbing. Rounding the corner, they saw a pile of ammunition on the hospital bed with an elevator nearby. Above the aforementioned bed was a small red fire extinguisher secured to the wall, which probably had never been used since being shipped from the manufacturing plant.

Spray-painted on the ground in black paint was an arrow above childish drawing of a house with a plus-sign within it- the indication of a safe house. Dirtied white cloth curtains littered the floor, threatening to wrap themselves around the survivors' feet and hinder their process by tripping them. Gingerly avoiding the debris, the four grabbed the respective ammunition for their weapons. The group reloaded their guns, making no other noise than what was necessary. An experienced hand with reloading his M-16 Assault Rifle, Bill finished earlier than the other three. Making his way over to the elevator, he inspected it carefully, not quite sure if it was capable of running. Still, some idiot had barricaded the stairwell, making the trip to the roof of the building otherwise impossible.

"You ready?" he asked curtly, turning back to the three people he was proud to call his comrades and teammates.  
>"Let's do this!' Francis declared, cocking his shotgun and grinning idiotically. "Hey Bill, you still got your beard on? Let's rock and roll!"<br>"A few years in the service might have slimmed you down and shut you up, Francis" Bill snapped, punching the button to call the elevator.

The loud, earsplitting noise of metal grinding against metal sounded as the elevator slowly made its way to the fourth floor from its position on the thirtieth level. The noise of the elevator, however, was seconded by the loud screeching of the horde converging onto the group's location. The infected poured out of the previously desolate hallways, somehow springing out of tight spaces in large numbers. The pounding of their feet soon surrounded the survivors, along with the loud shrieks and inhuman roars of rage that were emitted from their throats. Something heavy repeatedly crashed against the walls, though this was drowned out by the sound of continuous gunfire. Almost immediately, the four collapsed into their usual battle positions. Bill and Louis were at the battlefront, as their Assault Rifles could easily mow down the brunt of the zombies' attacks. Francis and Zoey were placed in the immediate rear to wipe out infected that were bunched up together, the latter sniping off the oncoming infected in the rear to make things easier for the other three.

"Grenade!" Francis shouted, using the lighter stored in his vest to light the Molotov's fuse. "Fire in the hole!"

The brown bottle flew through the air, smashing into fragments at the corridor's junction. The gasoline that used to be contained within the bottle spewed out, spreading onto the carpeted floor before it was set on fire by the rag Francis lit. The whole corridor burst into flames, the fire covering an impressive amount of area. The common infected, too stupid to comprehend the concept of fire, rushed through the flames, only to emerge shrieking at the top of their lungs and clawing at themselves to try to put the fire out. Protected by their wall of flames, the fight almost became a turkey shot as the group lazily fired into the weakened infected with their pistols.

"Hey look!" Francis shouted to his teammates, reloading a few shells into his automatic shotgun. "A firewall! They don't teach you how to do this shit in tech school! Get it, Louis?" Francis asked his aforementioned companion, the latter chuckling to himself.

Zoey smirked as she raised the scope to her eye and fired once, slaying three zombies in the process as the powerful gun continually spewed out bullets with a pause lasting only approximately a second in between each shot. Francis covered for Louis while the latter was in the process of reloading; shoving back infected former humans that tried to claw the businessman to pieces. The pounding on the wall grew increasingly louder and louder, the attacking object smashing into it with brute force. Bill, casting a glance at his surroundings, nearly swallowed his cigarette when he saw the walls that were formerly on the left and right side of the elevator burst into fragments before his very eyes. Dozens of infected nurses, doctors, and patients screeched as they lay sight upon the survivors, madly clawing their way to them and shoving others out of their way. Loud gurgling noises followed by muffled hacking sounds, hidden by the sounds of battle, presently made its way closer from its location behind the fake walls, safely away from the wall of flames.

"Boomer!" Francis shouted, shooting off round after round of bullets in an attempt to pop the bloated infected before-  
>"Augh... yeech..." Zoey groaned as Boomer bile slammed into her small form, wildly swinging her Hunting Rifle in all directions. "This is going to- ah!" Zoey screamed as she felt numerous sharp fingernails graze her face, furiously batting them away with her hands.<p>

The Boomer belched and gurgled in triumph and waddled on its fat legs towards the impaired survivors, raising a claw in preparation of digging it straight into one of their necks. It savored the moment, and a dull gleam flashed into its pupil-less orbs as it observed its prey, the four humans who it had followed for quite a while as they felled numerous amounts of his lesser brethren. They squirmed and wriggled about in their futile attempt to ward off the lesser infected, helpless and almost totally unable to see correctly and hurriedly trying to wipe off its vomit with their bile-coated clothing. Its one orange tinted milky-white eye narrowed as the claw sliced through the air, the wind whistling by the fat arm singing the sweet song of death and destruction...

...And death there was indeed, for one moment he was about to finally taste the glory of killing one of those infernal humans wielding thunder sticks, and the next, he was brutally shoved away back into the crowd as if he were nothing but rubble, unfit to cover even the worst people in the world. Stumbling and waving its arms madly in an attempt to regain its lost balance, the bloated infected snarled, preparing to charge back into the fray and punish them, when it came face to face with the long barrel of an automatic shotgun. A sadistic smile grew on Francis's face, his eyes twinkling with malice. The Boomer's visible eye widened slightly, and a few seconds of his former life flashed before his eyes in the small span of what remained of his 'life'. A loud blast rang through the corridor, and the Boomer knew no more, letting darkness claim the fragments of its soul before everything faded into nothing.

"It slimed me!" Zoey exclaimed in utter disgust, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of the foul substance as more of the Boomer's bile and intestines covered her and obscured the college girl's vision.  
>"Dammit Francis!" Bill shouted, spitting out his cigarette as well as a glob of Boomer bile that had chanced to enter into his open mouth. "When this is over and done, I'm going to-" the old war veteran's angry shout had suddenly ceased as abruptly as it began.<p>

As the biker and the veteran continued their verbal spat in the midst of fighting as best as they could in their condition, coughing and hacking echoed from the far end of one of the corridors. The Smoker that had skillfully used the Boomer's large mass as cover sprang out of the dark recesses of the corridor, rearing its head back and suddenly thrusting it forward as its long tongue shot towards its enemies. The slimy tongue hit Bill and swiftly began to wrap around the former Green Beret, the latter who quickly reloaded and started to fire in all directions carelessly, despite what fighting wars for years and battling infected for two weeks had taught him about teamwork and cooperation. Bill swore as the tongue wrapped around his arms, pinioning them to his sides and forcing him to drop his Assault Rifle. One of the bullets from his Assault Rifle flew two inches above Zoey's petite form, causing her to glare in Bill's direction.

"Watch where you're shooting" Zoey snarled, whipping around to face the direction which the bullets had come from. Her green eyes, now mostly cleared of the slimy, obstructing film of bile, widened as she saw the person who she regarded as a foster father and a mentor being asphyxiated and dragged away.  
>"Help me!" Bill croaked, struggling to free himself.<br>"I'm coming!" Zoey replied, putting the scope to her eyes once more.

Despite the pain of ten infected humans clawing and tearing at her, Zoey concentrated and ignored the pain. This was her only chance to free Bill, and she was not going to waste it on shooting at the tongue, which the Smoker was using to reel in its prey away from the flames, as the tongue was moving too fast for her to correctly position the muzzle of her Hunting Rifle to fire at. Aiming at the attacking special infected's head, she fired once, twice, three times, hoping it would be enough to convince the Smoker to let go of Bill in preference of the basic sense of self-preservation. The first two shots had missed the hacking mutant, but the third had made its mark, cutting through the Smoker's torso and barely nicking its infected heart.

The slippery pink rope-like muscle pulled Bill backwards several inches as the owner jerked and stumbled backwards from the force of the shots. Loudly coughing and hacking in disappointment, the Smoker bit its tongue off to release its captive before stumbling away.

"Hasta la vista, baby" Zoey imitated the Terminator, tracing the special infected's tell-tale trail of green smoke and spores to its origin and slightly jerking from the recoil as three more bullets were pumped into the escaping mutated former human.

With a final hacking cough, the Smoker burst into a cloud of green smoke that engulfed the area, covering a large amount of area as the green smoke diffused into the surrounding air. Zoey shouted in victory, though it was short lived; the common infected swarming around her small form continued to kick and claw at her. Slinging her Hunting Rifle onto her back, she snatched Bill's fallen M-16 Assault Rifle and quickly pulled the trigger to spray bullets into their faces. Zoey shook slightly from the recoil as she shot her way through the crowd, unused to using this type of weapon, though the recoil was much more bearable than a sniper rifle's. She groaned as she soon heard the clicking of an empty magazine. Tossing it to the elderly man, she crouched down, helping his struggling form back onto his feet.

"All right tiger, up and at them!" Zoey encouraged as she pulled him up, only stopping to un-shoulder her Hunting Rifle and assisting Francis and Louis take down the last common infected once Bill was able to stand on his own.  
>"We did it! We're still alive! We're gonna get through this okay, guys!" Louis cheered, panting as he snatched more ammunition from the pile on the movable hospital bed to reload his Assault Rifle.<p>

His excited exclamations, however, were cut off by the fit of coughing. Four pairs of eyes widened as they witnessed the bright, crackling flames lick the light green wall and crawl into the other rooms, consuming everything it touched.** The debris and cotton cloth scattered around the white tiled flooring provided as fuel for the fire. Thick smoke billowed throughout the wards, making it more difficult to breathe than the Smoker's smoke. Small hissing sounds issued from some rooms before deafening blasts shook the floor, scattering the various medical equipment used for patients from their previous location.

Multiple oxygen tanks that vibrated as the pressure inside of them increased dramatically, had exploded one by one, sending shards of shattered glass flying everywhere. The flames towered over the humans' forms, lapping at the ceiling and blackening the tiles, spurred on by its nature- the unconscious self-preservation by using the strewn medical equipment as fuel. A sickening, vomit-inducing odor stronger than the Boomer's bile or the Smoker's smoke filled the area. The smell of burning flesh, made even worse by the smell of burning Boomer bile, tainted the air. The flames slowly moved towards them, the fire hissing as it burned away layers of human work. Heat radiated off of the flames in waves, causing an enormous amount of sweat to cascade down the survivor's faces. Fire, beautiful but dangerous, held the four survivors captive with its dance of utter destruction as it slowly advanced towards them.

"Louis!" Zoey barked, shifting most of Bill's weight onto her shoulders in case his legs gave out below him. "Grab the Fire Extinguisher! I think we can put out the fire before-"

Suddenly, blaring sirens ripped through the polluted air. Bright flashes of light from the walls barely pierced through the smoke. The disconcerting fire alarms were soon joined by the sound of multiple sprinklers activating- only, there was no water coming out from the sprinklers. The survivors visibly flinched at their new predicament. Not only was there the definite chance that the sirens were attracting a horde, there wasn't any water to put the fire out with. In the time and age of humans, there would normally be workers managing the water systems and ensuring that the water pipelines were working perfectly. However, at the dawning of the infection, water pipelines lay abandoned and uncared for. It was already a known fact that the general public hardly trusted CEDA, yet flocked to every evacuation station in their craze to survive the infection as long as they could. The administration running Mercy Hospital was concerned that a strain of the virus could be water-borne despite the lack of evidence and so had shut down all pipelines once the panic of the infection had reached its peak.

The footfalls of four dozen more infected [that rushed from the corridors that have yet to catch fire] thundered as loud as elephants, startling the survivors out of their reverie. The shadows of their figures moved swiftly across the wall, enlarged by the positioning of the lighting, or the lack of, thereof. Luckily for the bruised and battered team, the soft alert tone of the elevator's arrival spurred the team's spirit. Though it was generally unwise to use the elevator during a fire, it was the lesser of two evils when forced between the choices of dying a horrible death and have their deceased bodies mauled by the flames, or take a risk and proceed to the evacuation station.

"We've got to move!" Francis commanded, shouldering his Automatic Shotgun and rushing towards the elevator's now open doors.  
>"Let's go, kid" Bill muttered to Zoey, grabbing his Assault Rifle from the floor and practically dragging her with him. "YEEEAAAARRRGGHHHH!" An animal-like cry, uncharacteristic for the elderly man, issued out of his throat as adrenaline he had not truly felt since his days in Vietnam pumped through his veins.<p>

The two ran towards the elevator as if they were running the 200 meter dash in the Olympics; however, instead of competitors, they had a horde hot on their heels that desperately wanted to rip their bodies to shreds and feast on their flesh. Both of them leapt for the elevator and tumbled on the floor inside of the box-like mechanism, just in time for the doors to close in the horde's face. Banging and loud screeches of disappointment filtered through the elevator doors' crevice before Louis pressed the button for the twenty-eighth floor, and with the whir of the machinery on the operating elevator car, they gradually began to rise higher and higher in the hospital. Soon, the methodical beeps of the elevator marking off the floors it passed filled the elevator car with some form of familiarity to the old life the tired city of Fairfield had once had.

"We made it!" Louis cheered. "I can't believe we made it!"  
>"Son, let's not throw a party until we're out of this city." Bill replied, throwing away a cigarette made useless by some invasive Boomer bile dripping onto the pack and reached into his pocket vest for another one, only to find that his Zippo lighter was missing. "Zoey, give me back my lighter"<br>"Sure thing, old man" Zoey threw the small, silver object at the elderly veteran, who deftly caught it with his left hand. "You should heal up; you're not going to last much longer if you don't."  
>"First to aid, last to die" Bill muttered, removing the bottle of pain pills from his belt and, after quickly downing the bottle's contents, tossing the empty container into a corner of the elevator. "Zoey, come here for a moment"<br>"Yeah?" Zoey questioned, closing the distance between them.  
>"Turn around and hold still for a moment. I don't like the thought of you getting anywhere without some good old fashioned first aid. You took quite a hit rescuing me from the Smoker, so I suppose it's only fair that I use my first aid kit to heal ya up."<p>

Zoey remained quiet as the elderly veteran removed the supplies from the red pack, only hissing in pain when he applied Betadine to disinfect the various wounds that covered multiple parts of her body. Bill began the slow process of protecting the injured skin, muttering exclamations upon seeing the numerous cuts and slashes that cut through her jeans and track suit to her skin, leaving numerous jagged wounds as a testament to her battle to ensure his safety. Soon, white gauze tape and bandages covered the majority of the wounds. Zoey sighed in relief as she stretched, still thankful that the infected hadn't exactly touched any of her vital organs.

"Heal up, people! We don't know how long this elevator ride is or how far the next safe house is!" Bill announced one he finished tending her wounds, discarding the now-useless kit.  
>"...I hate elevators" Francis muttered, obeying Bill's instructions by using his first aid kit after reloading his shotgun. "... and doctors, and lawyers, and cops..."<br>"Francis, what don't you hate?" Louis questioned, checking his ammunition reserves, satisfied at the sufficient amount of ammunition left.  
>"You know what I don't hate? I don't hate vests" Francis replied with a cheeky grin, wiping the remains of the Boomer bile onto the elevator car's floor.<br>"Anyway," Zoey continued, entering a fresh magazine into the Hunting Rifle. "I say we haul ass and get the heck out of this hospital as fast as we can. I estimate that we have a good 30-40 minutes or so before this hospital burns to the ground." Zoey continued, pointing to the red digital numbers that indicated that they were now passing the twentieth floor. "We get out of this elevator and to the rooftop. If I guess right, the helicopter that passed by us when we were on the apartments should still be doing evacuations."  
>"Sounds like a plan to me" Francis agreed, turning around to face Louis and Bill. "Desk jockey, old man, are you okay with this?"<br>"Not like we have a choice, son" Bill replied.

With a ding, the elevator doors slid open, revealing the bare metal structure of the hospital along with the stray construction equipment that littered the floors. Caught by the infection in the middle of remodeling the two floors of the hospital, the current floor they were on resembled a large metal cage. Wooden boards and drywall lay unused on the ground. Rain dripped onto the steel girders, which then sloshed onto the ground, forming a puddle. It gave off a cramped and uncomfortable appearance and cold radiated from the steel. Francis led the way forward with a maniacal grin plastered on his face, plowing through the unfortunate infected and tossing them aside like rag dolls.

Chilling wind blew through the open level, causing all four of them to shiver involuntarily as the freezing rain struck their vulnerable, bare skin. Weaving their way through the metal maze, they ducked under hanging electrical wires and bounded over fallen pieces of drywall, unaware that they were silently being watched. It had been waiting since their last encounter, stalking the group by means of using air ducts and from the ceiling. The mere sight and smell of his prey drove him onwards. A slimy tongue coated with the diseased blood of its fellow common infected slid over yellowed dagger-like teeth. A familiar hooded figure crawled over the massive wooden spools that held electrical wiring, growling as he spotted his prey using its echolocation method.*** Slinking behind them, the Hunter followed the survivors in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

... And apparently finding it. A sinister grin showed under the shadow of its hood as it observed the four making their way closer to the edges of the floor, where there wasn't any protection for the survivors if they managed to fall off the edge of the building. The scent of its prey overpowered every other sense it had, stirring it into a blood frenzy. It crouched as it moved to a more suitable spot and its muscles tensed in preparation for the pounce. It growled loudly, licking its pale lips in anticipation of drinking the blood of its enemies, or more specifically, the one who denied it of its meal. It growls made their way to the foursome's ears, causing shivers to run down their spines.

"Did you hear that?" Louis asked nervously as he waved his flashlight around, trying to spot the source of the growling.  
>"There's a Hunter spooking around here" Bill murmured, readying his Assault Rifle.<p>

Suddenly, a loud screech pierced the otherwise silent night. A blue blur shot through the air right at Francis, its claws extended and ready to dig into the biker's flesh. Francis hesitated slightly as he saw the agile infected flying straight for him, debating whether to punch the Hunter in its face again, or shoot it out of the air. He reacted by doing neither action, but slamming his body onto the floor and quickly rolling to the side just as the special infected shot above where his torso used to be. The Hunter screeched in surprise as he sailed past the biker and off of the building to the ground to blow- it really hadn't been expecting that.

Francis peered over the edge and heartily laughed as he watched the Hunter become a tiny speck as it fell twenty-eight stories and smashed onto the cold, unforgiving ground below. The biker cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted to the now-dead Hunter, constantly jeering at its limp, unmoving form.

"You call yourself a Hunter? You're a disgrace to you and the rest of you sweatshirt wearing wusses!"

The business man's body shook as Louis heartily laughed, holding onto a steel girder for support. Zoey held on to Bill as they too laughed at the expense of the deceased Hunter. Francis smirked and waved them on, pointing to the black smoke billowing from the fourth floor as an indication that they didn't have much time before the building would be fully engulfed in flames. Eyes widening in horror, the group ran like frightened rabbits through the steel structures, groaning loudly when constantly meeting dead ends while the clock was ticking and precious minutes were being wantonly squandered.

"This way people!" Bill ordered, ducking under an infected's swinging arm and elbowing the aforementioned former human in the face. "Move fast- these bastards are gonna slow you down!"

The infected snarled and charged at them, angry at the four for disturbing them. Bobbing and weaving, the group attempted to avoid the infected at all costs, running blindly through the floor with only the graffiti indicating the safe house's position guiding them. Louis snarled as claws raked his exposed back, causing blood to pool and stain his shirt bright red.

"Mother fu-!" Louis shouted angrily, whipping around and planting a foot in his assailant's face, causing the latter to stumble backwards and collide with the infected humans behind it.  
>"Nice!" Francis complimented, giving Louis a hearty thump on his shoulder as the latter passed by him.<br>"Safe house ahead" Bill called, pointing to the bright red metal door that contrasted to the sheer gloom of the dour surroundings.  
>"Everyone inside!" Zoey ordered, whipping out her sidearm and covering the trio as they entered the protected area.<p>

Scrambling away once the last person cleared the doorway, Zoey gripped the door and hurriedly shut it, wincing as she heard multiple bones cracking as the infected slammed against the sturdy door. The dark blood of the infected pooled and seeped through the crevice in the doorway, permanently staining the ground a shade of dark red. Dirtied fingernails clawed at the door from the other side as their owners screeched in anger. Sighing in relief, Zoey strode over to the metal table holding the usual three Tier-2 weapons, but Zoey ignored them in favor of ammunition, preferring her Hunting Rifle to the Assault Rifle or the Automatic Shotgun due to its ability to slice through multiple infected at once.

A red metal box that used to contain four bright red medical kits was mounted to a wall, all of them having been picked up by Louis, Bill and Francis- Zoey had yet to use hers. Louis had snatched one of the remaining kits from the holder and bandaged the more critical wounds with it, not bothering to use the other one he had strapped to his back at the moment. Bill slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle after lighting yet another cigarette, looking at his fellow teammates expectantly. Collected murmurs of affirmation to press onwards echoed from around the room.

"Let's hustle" was all Bill said before opening the safe room door and charging up the stairs, tackling an infected away with relative ease despite his advanced age.

Giving a swift nod to each other, the trio ran after their leader. The hall, being one of the more completed sections of the reconstruction area, was relatively clear of obstructing material besides a ladder and a few pieces of drywall leaning against the walls. The stark grey walls dully reflected the light, exposing the locations of some common infected stumbling around in the dark rooms branching off of the hallway. The familiar sobbing of the Witch caused the hairs on the back of the survivor's necks to stand on end immediately. A more naïve person would have wandered from room to room without realizing the risks they were taking, either believing the sobbing to have come from a young female in distress or confused by the echolocation of the Witch's sobs to properly discover its location.

"You have got to be freaking kidding me!" Francis groaned when he saw it sitting directly in their path in front of the pair of broken metal elevator doors.

The Witch's head snapped to their direction upon hearing their voices, growling softly. Its orange-red eyes burned into their eyes, causing them to back pedal away from the Witch's position before it could slice them to pieces with its claws. Hiding behind the corner, they observed the Witch turn away from them. Within moments, her growling ceased and her heart-breaking wailing resumed.

"What's the plan here?" Louis asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.  
>"We do what we're best at" Bill gruffly replied, gripping his Assault Rifle until his knuckles turned white.<br>"Kicking ass?" Francis offered, scratching his shaven head perplexedly.  
>"Besides that" Bill replied, lightly sighing at his teammates' confused looks. "Running"<br>"Well then, let's go!" Zoey urged, sprinting past the Witch and dashing through the ajar elevator doors, grabbing hold of the elevator cables, and swinging onto the platform safely with a labored grunt.

The Witch hissed in anger as it sensed the college girl run past it, uttering a banshee screech when it observed another- a biker clad in tattoos from head to toe- mimicking Zoey. Scrambling to its feet, the Witch stood up and brandished its claws like weapons when the businessman passed her by, glaring at the only survivor left with pure hatred evident in its eyes. There was no question that it wanted nothing more than to dig its bloody, razor sharp talons into the veteran's flesh and enjoy the elderly man's screams as he was slowly ripped apart.

Backing up and mustering his courage, Bill sucked in air and rushed at the special infected with his signature war cry before slamming his body onto the floor and sliding between her legs and under her outstretched arms. While his initial goal was to pass through the open elevator doors, the Witch made it otherwise impossible. Instead, he shot through the ventilation gates and performed forward rolls to bowl into oncoming infected.

Leaping back onto his feet, he smashed an infected's head in its body with his Assault Rifle and jumped over the struggling bodies of the infected he had knocked down. Knocking the ones getting back onto their feet by sweeping their legs out from under them, he briefly smirked in satisfaction before hastily grabbing the rungs of the ladder and ascending to the next floor. Behind him, the Witch's glare softened as she watched the veteran move away from her before she slid back onto the floor and resumed crying. When he cleared the rest of the ladder, he saw Zoey offer him a small smile before climbing onto the second ladder after Francis onto the roof- the latter toting a propane tank he had found lying at the base of the ladder. When asked why he was carrying it by Louis, the biker defensibly replied that he liked blowing things up and watching the 'vampires' explode into hundreds of pieces.

Clambering onto the rooftop, he gazed at the massive concrete jungle that was sprawled in front of him. A good chunk of the heliport had been ripped out by god-knows-what. The rain had lessened before stopping moments ago, leaving nothing but a slick layer of rainwater. Massive water pipes and air ducts covered the majority of the rooftop. Multiple spotlights were positioned on the roof, alighting the skies and piercing through the clouds above. A small building on the far end of the rooftop was the survivors' best guess as to where they could summon a helicopter to their rescue. Looking behind them, their faces paled as black smoke began to fill the air surrounding air more profusely than several minutes ago. The pounding of their footwear attracted the attention of the infected milling about the area, causing them to give chase. Snarling and exposing their sharpened teeth, the infected pursued the four in great strides and bounds, intent on punishing them for disturbing the sense of demented peace the virus had given to them.

"This shit's getting old" Bill snapped as he slammed the steel doors shut behind them and used his body to keep the door from opening.

Zoey fired at the infected attempting to gain access to the room by climbing through the windows. Louis nearly tripped over two propane tanks lying in a corner. Francis grunted as he pushed heavy green crate holding ammunition and weapons, impatiently waving the old veteran aside. Bill gratefully moved away from the door and allowed the biker to barricade the door. The horrendous, nails-on-a-chalkboard choruses of screeching eventually died away as the infected were picked off, giving enough peace for the static-like crackling of a nearby radio to attract their attention.

"Mercy Hospital, are you there? Come in, Mercy Hospital" a male voice loudly blared through the speakers, cutting through the static.  
>"H... Hello" Zoey answered hesitantly.<br>"You've made it!" the male voice boomed. "All you have to do is hold out until I get there, but first you need to prepare. There should be a mounted gun and supplies to help you hold out. Call me when you're prepared. News copter 5 out." With that, the transmission was cut and the static returned.  
>"What do you say guys, are you ready" Louis questioned.<br>"We could use the mounted gun to our advantage" Bill mused, scratching his beard. "Then again, we'd be left out in the open…"  
>"I say we don't use the blasted gun" Francis interjected, setting his propane tank down with a wide grin on his face. "Look, instead of running around like headless chickens and become easy targets for Smokers and Hunters, I say we hide and wait it out instead"<br>"You crazy, man?" Louis replied, giving him an odd stare. "How the heck are we supposed to wait out an entire shitload of zombies?"  
>"Vampires" Francis calmly retorted, preparing to launch into an argument with his teammate.<br>"I second Francis" Zoey squeaked, hoping to interrupt whatever fighting would insure. "I mean... it's not such a bad idea when you think of it" Zoey's face turned a shade of red lighter than that of her track suit, feeling the gaze of her other teammates in the room.  
>"All right! Someone agrees with me!" Francis cheered triumphantly, giving Zoey a playful punch on her shoulder. "Alright people, here's the plan" Francis leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper, as if he were afraid that the zombies would be able to hear him. "Shotguns only. We hide in the closet and shoot the infected from there. That way, Smokers and Hunters can't kick our asses while we're kicking their asses. Let's move, people!"<p>

Clapping his hands loudly, the biker reached into the weapons case and extracted three more Automatic Shotguns, tossing them to his teammates, who then exchanged their previous Tier-2 weapons for the shotgun's ammunition. Hurriedly moving his propane tank into the closet, he waved the college girl and the businessman on, grunting as they packed into the tight space. Bill stayed behind momentarily to summon the news copter pilot on the radio.

"Okay, I am on my way." the pilot replied. "ETA in 15 minutes. Just hang in there. News Chopper 5, out!"  
>"Get in!" Francis hissed to Bill, the latter hurriedly stuffing himself into the cramped space and slamming the door shut.<p>

Their breathing stilled as they waited in anticipation for the horde, clutching their weapons anxiously. An inhuman screech resounded throughout the rooftop, causing shivers to travel up their spines. Mere seconds later, hammering at the door started as dozens of infected humans poured in through the windows and attempted to claw their way through to get to the fresh, untainted blood of the four survivors contained within. Animalistic snarls and growls were uttered from their throats, overlapping shrieks from their fellow infected humans just as their shouts were tapering off. It was almost as if the horde was like a swarm of angry bees.

Footsteps almost as loud as their owners' howls thundered across the empty space. The infected sniffed the air, turning their heads this way and that, finding the appealing scent of fresh blood but not yet seeing it. Their bodies swayed as their hands slashed at the open space, angered at not finding their prey. A few of them even began to turn against their fellow infected, slashing at them with dirtied nails. A body slammed against the door unexpectedly, causing Zoey to give a small gasp in surprise.

Pupil-less eyes narrowed as they eyed the door suspiciously when their sensitive hearing picked up the unfamiliar sound. The more courageous infected humans dared so much as to even venture towards the steel door, licking their lips as the scent of untainted blood grew stronger. The feeling soon spread throughout the room as even the fighting infected stopped whatever they were doing and gravitated towards the steel door, quietly snarling amongst themselves. They could hear the soft breathing of four uninfected humans cowering behind the obstruction. They could almost taste the warm flesh in their mouths. Saliva tainted with the Green Flu pooled and dribbled across pale, dry lips. Milky white eyes considered the closet door for what seemed like to the survivors an eternity before the infected humans suddenly started to slam against the door, intent on bashing it in. Their acute, sensitive ears faintly picked up the sloshing of fresh, untainted blood, which they hungered for beyond everything else.

"Showtime, baby!" Francis bugled, blowing a hole through the steel door with a blast of his shotgun and causing fragments of an unfortunate infected's brain to fly everywhere.

The resounding blasts of shotgun fire ripped through the infected flesh, tearing through their weakened skeletal structures and reducing them to nothing but heaps of rotting flesh. A steam of long pink flesh flew through the opening in the door and promptly wrapped itself around Francis' form, eliciting an enraged grunt from him. Francis growled at the special infected's attempts at sabotage and hastily severed the appendage before it could hinder his arms and render them useless. One of the more clever infected manage to crush the steel door into scrap metal with several blows, allowing the infected to pour in. However, due to the fact that they were limited to using the only entrance into the closet and that there were four humans each equipped with shotguns, the fight actually became easier for the survivors, who could now take down more infected per hit than letting some of the pellets embed themselves into the door.

At one point, somebody had accidentally missed their initial target and shot one of the propane tanks. A deafening explosion following another rocked the rooftop. Some of the unfortunate infected that happened to be nearby the explosion soon found themselves without the majority of their body parts. Others were unceremoniously thrown across the room, slamming into others and knocking them down. Soon, the number of infected lessened before it completely stopped altogether. Silence hung around the rooftop ominously, save for the clicking of multiple shells being reloaded into their shotguns.

"Is it over?" Louis asked nervously, warily stepping out of the relatively safe confines of the closet to venture into the blood coated room.

Intestines, along with various body parts and gore covered the majority of the floor. Louis winced as he heard the loud crunching of fragile bones under his feet as he walked towards a window. Francis uttered a low whistle at the mere sight of the vast destruction and rested his shotgun on the wall. If it had not been for the fact that they had been fighting and witnessing this type of destruction for a solid two weeks, they would have been either emotionally scarred for life or sick to their stomachs. The putrid scent of the Smoker's glowing trail of smoke still lingered in the air, causing all four of them to wrinkle their noses in disgust as it mixed with the smoke from the fire several floors below. All was quiet, and all was still for the moment, save for the shuffling of anxious feet as they imagined how fast fire can tear through buildings and engulf it in flames in what seemed like mere minutes. Louis allowed himself a small, reassuring smile as he looked out the window and saw no zombies in sight.

"Where the heck did all these zombies come from?"

Zoey was about to respond to the general question Louis posed with a movie reference, had it not been for the steadily increasing vibrations that rippled below their feet. A mighty roar echoed across the dead space, followed by a large chunk of cement that smashed into the building and caused it to shudder under the impact. Arms as thick as tree trunks appeared from the side of the building. Fists as large as a person's head smashed into the wall repeatedly until a reasonably sized hole formed. The Tank leered at the four survivors through the hole in the wall, fixing its dead eyes upon them. Bill swore he saw a devilish smirk dance across the Tank's face as it leered at them.

"Tank!" Francis loudly called.

He then unloaded his shotgun into its face, causing it to stumble backwards in pain. A large, meaty hand rose and felt the slick blood drip all over its face before its expression changed to one of pure rage. It snarled and bashed the wall in with an arm, reaching forward to grab Francis and squeeze the life out of him. Luckily for the biker, his teammates had gotten over their initial shock and they too fired at the enormous infected. It grunted as it was forced backwards a little from the force of the bullets, but it blindly charged at the four repeatedly. Bill noted that the Tank appeared to be more annoyed than in pain, even as the pellets tore through its skin and into its over-sized muscles.

Something clicked in Zoey's brain as she saw the enraged Tank flail its arms wildly. She quickly backpedaled towards the weapons case, realizing the futility of the situation. On one of the hunting trips her father took her on during the few vacation days he had received from work, he had taught her that thick-skinned animals were mostly protected by their hides. The lesson certainly fit with the situation she was in now- it was obvious that the shotgun suffered reduced damage on the Tank, being that the shotgun's bullets were spread out rather than concentrated. Dropping the now-empty shotgun onto the blood matted floor, she quickly snatched a Hunting Rifle from the case and unloaded the inserted clip into its arms.

The Tank roared in fury, attempting to squish its large frame through the smaller hole it made. Zoey took the opportunity to reload and kick two Assault Rifles towards Bill and Louis.

"Shotguns hardly affect Tanks!" Zoey shouted, at the two upon seeing the confused expressions on their faces. "Francis, distract the Tank!"  
>"Will do!" Francis replied, smashing the butt of his shotgun into the Tank's wounded face.<br>"Louis, go up to the roof and shoot it from there. Bill, you're with me"

The hardened veteran gave a swift nod before he followed the college girl out of a broken window. Louis flew through the metal door barring entrance to the roof and promptly took position on the mounted gun. Zoey ran behind the Tank as it ignored the three in favor of swiping at the biker with its meaty hands. The biker provided a decent distraction by repeatedly taunting the Tank as he continued to shoot at it in between dodging the infected's best attempts at killing the biker. Suddenly, Francis flew backwards as the Tank finally got a lucky shot and smashed a fist into the survivor's stomach as the latter was reloading a shell into his shotgun. Francis's body slammed into the wall opposite of the hole the Tank made where he lay, unmoving as the Tank smashed its way through the weakened wall to permanently make the biker a part of the Hospital. His shotgun skittered across the floor before it halted and lay two yards away from its owner. Zoey counted nine loud bangs from her rifle before she turned around and ran in the opposite direction of the Tank.

The Tank paused with its arm in midair as it stood unmoving, pondering on where the sudden burst of pain from behind had came from. Turning around, its body contorted as it glared at the college girl's retreating back. Bill covered her as she ran away from the hulking mass, hearing it roar in anger behind her. The Tank tore through an undamaged wall, charging towards the two before it snarled as Louis peppered its grotesque form with bullets. Growling as the wounds inflicted on its body began to smart painfully; it slammed an uncurled hand into the building, beginning to scale the wall to get at its new attacker. The battle between him and these four humans was getting quite tiring, and its patience with them was quickly waning.

Zoey and Bill worriedly sent fleeting glances at the gigantic special infected as they returned to the heavily damaged room, assisting their fallen comrade. Both equally shouldering the biker's weight, they dragged him out of harm's way. Louis loudly gasped as the Tank's massive form came into view, backing away from the mounted gun as the massive infected stepped over the barbed wire and pushed its mass onto the rooftop. It raised its arms to crush the youthful businessman, and would have succeeded had it not had been for the latter rolling away from the Tank's fists. The large infected stomped its feet in irritation, failing to notice the growing cracks on the roof below it.

With a loud snap, the roof collapsed under the weight. Wood splintered as it gave way and allowed it to collapse into the room. The unused propane tank Francis had stored dug into its back, but it barely noticed it in its overwhelming rage. Slick, dark red blood dripped from its wounds profusely and pooled onto the floor as it struggled to get back onto its feet, badly disfiguring the closet as it jerked to and fro. Its wildly swinging arms crushed the closet easily. It stepped out from the closet, thoroughly enraged.

By this time, Louis had found it sensible to place as much distance from the Tank as much as possible, joining the protection offered by Bill and Zoey- Francis had not yet regained consciousness. Zoey slapped a fresh magazine into her Hunting Rifle and used the scope to score hits at the Tank's head whenever the opportunity presented itself to her. Bill grunted as he propped Francis against a corner of a building while Louis used his Assault Rifle to distract the Tank from their injured comrade, the former muttering something about lecturing the man on how to lose a few pounds or so. The Tank grunted as it dug its thick fingers into the rooftop, pulling out a rather large chunk of concrete from the ground. It leered menacingly at the four before it prepared to crush them with the heavy object.

Just as it was about to throw it, however, a well placed shot from Zoey's rifle ripped through the its heavily disfigured face and in between its eyes, embedding itself in what little remained of its brain. It grunted in surprise before its arms slackened and it collapsed onto its knees. The concrete chunk it was previously holding fell onto its head, eliciting an audible crack as the concrete smashed into its thick skull and cracked it in half. It fell over forward with one last groan of pain, the evil gleam in its blank eyes fading away into a dull sheen. The rooftop vibrated violently under the full five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle the Tank provided.

Francis moaned as he came to, rubbing his head with an irritated expression. His skull felt like it was it was on fire, and he was sure that the Tank had snapped at least two of his ribs in that single punch. Muttering something about Tanks being common infected maxed out on steroids, Francis picked himself off of the floor and brushed blood and grime off of his prized leather vest. He grinned widely upon seeing the deceased Tank's body and staggered as he tried to move back to the closet. Louis had to steady the biker to keep him from falling on his face.

"We have to... go back to the closet" Francis ordered in a weak voice, both trying to push Louis away and keep from vomiting.  
>"Francis, man, I think you fractured that thick skull of yours or something. We've got to patch you up soon or I'm going to have to keep on dragging your sorry ass-"<br>"I can walk fine!" Francis interjected angrily. "We don't have too much time before-"

The cries of common infected pierced through the air. Alarmed, Francis hobbled towards the wrecked building, snapping at his teammates not to worry about him and to move ahead. Bill reached the destroyed building and tossed Francis his shotgun, the latter clumsily reloading it while fighting the urge to vomit. Seeing as the closet was cluttered with debris from the Tank's grand escape from the finite space. The four took up defensive positions in the room with their backs to each other, nervously waiting for the horde to arrive. After a Tank appeared, there was sure to be a horde that followed- some primal instinct alerted them whenever one of their strongest brethren was downed. Before CEDA had totally eradicated all traces of its presence from the city, they had theorized that the lesser infected figured that the Tank had weakened them enough for them to hopefully finish them off and tear their yielding flesh into ribbons.

The first of the horde spewed out from the air duct openings, screeching and collapsing in top of one another. Others clawed their way up from lower levels, furiously clinging onto the Hospital with fingernails crudely shaped into claws. Snarling, they scrambled towards the survivors, unaware of the fate they were to meet at the hands of the four. However, the survivors had taken measures to cover almost every opening in the room to which the infected could use to their advantage. Some of the more intelligent common infected had clambered onto the rooftop and fell through the hole the Tank had created, catching the survivors off guard, if not only for a moment. The only thing the aforementioned infected did however, was to create a momentary distraction for their brethren to land a hit or two. Unfortunately for them, the effective defense the humans provided was difficult to overwhelm.

"Reloading!" Bill called out. Louis immediately took up a position in front of the war worn veteran until the elderly man had finished inserting a new magazine into his Assault Rifle.

Louis fell back and covered Zoey's six while she picked off lone infected outside of the building. Since her rifle's bullets were able to go through multiple targets at once, it made things considerably easier for the rest of the survivors to keep the infected from flanking them. Soon, all that was left of the infected was heaps upon heaps of rotting carcasses. Francis uttered a low whistle and held his head. His headache had considerably worsened from the loud gunshots. However, Francis was eager to keep up the image of his indestructibility and easily shrugged off the pain. Not even the rumbling of the rooftop from an approaching Tank failed to scare him in the slightest.

"Tank time!" Francis called out cheerily, reloading his weapon and snatching a few shells from the scattered pile of ammunition.  
>"Go, go, go!" Bill shouted, leaping out of a nearby window to engage the threat.<p>

Zoey and Louis followed soon after a slight hesitation- Francis forcefully rejected their help and claimed that he was perfectly fine. The biker was about to follow suit when he spotted the white propane tank, slightly dented from the Tank falling on top of it, lying on top of the pile of debris, just waiting to be used. Grinning maniacally, he quickly shouldered his weapon and snatched the tank from under the rubble, cradling it in his arms. Retaining his maniacal facial expression, Francis bounded out of the window and towards his friends fleeing from the rock throwing Tank.

Apparently, this Tank preferred attacking from a distance rather than directly engaging the survivors- a tactic that the four found surprising, as the Green Flu virus usually destroyed higher brain processes, including planning and thinking. This Tank's rock throw proved to be quite troubling for the survivors, as they were forced to constantly move and tire themselves out by running only on adrenaline. Compounding the problem was the fact that Zoey's Hunting Rifle had the best chance they had against long-range infected, though her aim only proved true if she wasn't forced to be so mobile. Hunting Rifles after all, were for sniping and not for wildly firing it while running away from a pursuing enemy.

They swore they saw a mocking smile tag at the edges of the massive special infected's mouth and a sinister gleam reflect in its eyes as they scattered across the rooftop and away from the protection of the others. Francis cursed as the Tank chose him to be its next target- the propane tank he was holding slowed him down considerably. The considerable amount of wounds he had received from the previous Tank made matters even worse. Darting between concrete structures, he snarled as he constantly met the Tank standing in the way of his escape routes. Ducking under the Tank's first punch, Francis panted in exhaustion, as he wedged himself in between the AC unit and an electrical panel on the other side of the structure. The Tank snarled as it rounded the corner and found nobody.

The biker breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed out of the tight space as the Tank moved on in search of the three others it saw accompanying the bruised and battered biker. Unfortunately, Francis had kicked a piece of scrap metal as he attempted to sneak away. The infected flinched and its body contorted grotesquely as it turned to face him. It snarled and approached the biker menacingly. Francis panicked and began backing away from the threat. He looked behind him momentarily, noticing that he was rapidly approaching the edge of the roof and then at the propane tank, an idea suddenly popping in his head.

He threw it at the enormous infected and ran away to a safer location. The propane tank connected with the infected's face and fell at its feet. The Tank snarled and began lumbering forwards, stepping over the metal container to get at the biker. Francis however, merely smirked and leveled his shotgun with the propane tank. One blast of his shotgun later, and the Tank stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned from the blast. The biker took this opportunity to charge at the defenseless Tank and slam his body against its mass.

The Tank grunted as it felt its footing slip from the rooftop. Its thick arms flew upwards out of instinct, scratching madly at the building. One of the arms managed to cling onto the edge of the roof and thus arrested his fall. Francis cheerfully whistled as he approached the helpless Tank, raising his shotgun and smashing each fat finger as he sang.

"This little Boomer vomited a river" the Tank grunted as its pinky slipped away. "This little Hunter got pounced by a gnome" The Tank struggled as its index finger lost its grip; the other arm tried to embed itself into the buildings side.

Francis merely gave a short laugh and continued.

"This little Smoker choked on Pipe Bombs, this little Witch got crowned. And this," Francis continued, smirking triumphantly over the Tank as he prepared to loosen the infected's middle finger and end its miserable existence. "This little Tank went..."

Francis slammed the butt of his shotgun on the last remaining finger and caused the Tank to fall to its untimely doom. The Tank loudly roared in despair as it fell down thirty stories to crash onto the pavement below, instantly snapping its spine and killing it.

"...all the way back to its maker" Francis finished, turning away from the edge and congregating with his friends.  
>"Dude, what the hell, man!" Louis exclaimed, having watched the spectacle unfold before his eyes. "I so had that Tank where I wanted him! I could have done that"<br>"Yeah, right" Francis chuckled, rolling his eyes.  
>"I had to do all the work for you ladies. Besides, I'm the top dog now- I have a perfect score of six hundred, thanks to the two Tanks' asses I kicked"<br>"Two?" Louis snorted in disbelief.  
>"Yeah!" Francis replied, smirking. "Two tanks- I destroyed both a propane tank, and a regular Tank in one shot, so I think I deserve something along the lines of... kicking your asses and winning!" He chuckled, stopping after a few seconds as silence filled the gaps between them. Zoey spoke to break the silence before it got too unbearable.<br>"This little Hunter got pounced by a gnome?" Zoey asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

Francis merely shrugged and maintained his maniacal grin until he heard the familiar growling of a certain special infected. Louis raised his Assault Rifle in the biker's direction, causing the latter to immediately snap into a defensive position by whipping around to face the menace. Louis stared into the distance, carefully watching the Hunter as it crawled over an air vent and kept it in the center of its vision. Then, using Francis's shoulder as a steadying mount, Louis fired off several rounds at the surprised Hunter- it really hadn't expected its enemies to find it so quickly. The special infected was blown backwards by the force of the bullets and performed cartwheels in midair as it fell to the ground. Francis then commenced to verbally assault the hooded infected's cowardice while Zoey chuckled good naturedly, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Bill was only half listening to their conversation. He stood on top of an AC unit, lighting another cigarette. Although his hearing wasn't as it used to be when he toured in Vietnam, there was no mistaking the whir of helicopter blades. He looked up into the stormy sky, squinting at a dark form in the distance. He gave a small smile as it saw the helicopter growing closer, leaped from his perch and landed on the ground with a soft thump.

"Helicopter's here!" the elderly veteran loudly announced with a wide grin plastered on his face.  
>"Move!" Francis urged, already hearing the faint echoes of an approaching horde.<p>

By this time, the third through twenty eighth stories of Mercy Hospital had caught fire, and the flames continued to steadily progress upward. Black smoke poured out of windows broken by the intense heat. Flames flickered behind the dark obscuring substance as their tongues lapped up the strewn papers and fed itself on the carpeting and the numerous flammable products left haphazardly around the building in the panic of the infection.

The helicopter hovered over the badly damaged helipad away from the billowing smoke, waiting for the four to embark. Louis leaped into the helicopter first, followed by Francis, Bill, and lastly, Zoey, who secured the door so that the infected climbing on to the helicopter would be denied access. The pilot nervously eyed the four before his eyes moved to the figures behind them, widening when he gazed upon the sheer number of infected humans running towards the helicopter. On top of that, when he focused on a massive figure in the distance holding a sizable object that was almost as large as its body, he started to panic.

"Holy shit! What did you guys do to that hospital and more importantly… wha... what is that thing?" the chopper pilot yelped in horror, nearly releasing his hold on the helicopter's controls.  
>"The last thing you'll ever see before you die if you don't move, son" Bill snapped. "You better get a move on before we all perish"<p>

Nodding fearfully, the pilot maneuvered his helicopter just in time for the Tank to throw the rock. The rock grazed the side of the plane before falling to the ground below. The helicopter jerked in the air for a few moments before the pilot managed to wrestle the chopper to maintain its altitude. Hyperventilating, the pilot flew away as fast as the helicopter would allow, leaving hundreds of common infected to run off the roof to pursue the flying object and an angry Tank to take its anger out on the remainder of its lesser brethren.

The fire climbed higher and higher in the building, the bright light from the flames illuminating the hospital as well as the area surrounding it with an orange light. It looked almost symbolic, as if it were the light in the all-encompassing darkness- a beacon of hope in a world caught in the middle of depression and distress. After all, in reverse thinking, the speed of darkness is practically faster than the speed of light- no matter how fast light travels, it will always find darkness waiting for it. As the hospital eventually faded away, the last thing they saw was that it was completely engulfed in flames and in the process of collapsing due to the heat of the flames warping the hospital's steel structure.

"That was a close one" The pilot sighed, wiping the sweat off of the brow. "My name is Martin, by the way"

Francis settled into a corner, lazily sitting with his shotgun lying at his side. The businessman slouched against a wall, striking up a conversation with the pilot. Only Bill and Zoey remained silent- the college girl having to patch up the biker's wounds and the veteran needing some time to himself to think.

"The last group of people I rescued was a crazy bunch" Martin continued, Louis nodding and playing the part of the perfect audience. "One guy even bit me!" the pilot exclaimed, holding up his wrist for good measure.

Bill looked at the pilot suspiciously as the latter let Louis examine the bitten wrist. It was coated in dried blood, with bloodied crudely made bandaging covering some parts of the bite, being that the aforementioned infected person who had bitten him had also taken a reasonably large chunk of flesh off of the arm in the process. Louis recoiled slightly at the sight, but gave no other comment than saying that he had to see someone trained in the medical field as soon as possible. Zoey nonchalantly ignored Martin in favor of finishing her medical care on the biker.

The pilot merely grunted in response, but otherwise did not verbally reply to Louis's statement. Suddenly, with no forewarning at all, Martin started to twitch violently. His head reared back and lurched forward unexpectedly, a brown stream of vomit flying out of his mouth to slam into the windshield. His breathing was shallow and relatively fast-paced while sweat beaded on his forehead and fell onto his blood splattered uniform. His convulsions stopped as quickly as they had started, leaving the man with his head down and eyes closed as the helicopter started to tip back and forth under the lack of guidance.

Then, the eyes snapped open again, though this time they had lost their pupils and were dulled to a milky white color. Martin's head whipped around to face his passengers and bared his teeth. His orbs narrowed as the infection took full effect on his systems, considering the four humans that stood behind him. Snarling, he ripped through his seat belt and rushed towards the four.

Bill immediately reached for his Assault Rifle, but Zoey got there first, whipping out her dual pistols and delivering three fatal shots to Martin's head and chest. The helicopter pilot halted instantly, the hatred evident on his face faltering a moment as his hands faintly touched the bullet wounds. With a groan, his body collapsed onto the floor, blood pooling around his carcass.

The helicopter dangerously leaned towards the left, causing the four to stumble. Louis leaped over Martin's dead body and darted towards the controls to regain control of the helicopter. However, it was too late, as the helicopter was already about two hundred feet from the ground and maintaining its rapid descent. Zoey yelped as the helicopter neared its final resting place and Bill threw himself on top of her, intent on protecting the young girl. The helicopter smashed into the ground with a loud crunch.

Glass shattered upon the impact, sending the shards in all directions. Francis audibly grunted in pain as he was thrown against the front of the helicopter. A loud explosion rang in their ears, momentarily deafening them. Falling metal from the helicopter's ceiling slammed onto the old veteran's back. The last thing he saw was Zoey's terrified expression before his vision failed him and his world exploded into darkness as his mind recessed to a long forgotten childhood memory buried under the experiences and recollections of the long and arduous Vietnam War.

**Flashback  
>April 21, 1939<strong>

"Daddy, look at me!" William chirped happily as he bunny-hopped across the lawn rather clumsily, widely grinning as he saw his father run through the gently swaying grass and scoop him into a bear hug.

Her father beamed at his five year old son, playfully ruffling the rabbit ears he had donned earlier in celebration of the holiday. Bill giggled and clung on to his father's shirt with his small hands, staring up at him with adoring sapphire eyes. In response, He found his body cradled and his father's hands gently guiding his arms around the back of his neck. A rosy red cheek that starkly contrasted with the rest of his skin pressed against the bulky chocolate pieces he had given him for Easter, while a hand grazed against one of his arms. He leaned into his chest and closed his eyes, softly nuzzling against it and taking in his scent with deep breaths, wishing the day would never end. However, the sun was beginning to set over the horizon, casting long shadows upon the ground.

"Theo! William!" Susan called out, standing in between the doorway. "It's time for dinner!"  
>"Coming, sweetie!" William's father replied.<p>

William slightly shifted as he heard his daddy call out to his mommy, snuggling deeper into his father as he began the trek back to their home. Delicious scents wafted through the air, causing the small boy's stomach to loudly growl in response. His mother chuckled as she served the dishes onto the table and set up a chair for William to sit in. His father gently placed him onto his seat and let his wife slip a small metal spoon in William's hand. William's vibrant blue eyes sparkled with delight as his mother pushed a plate of delicious homemade food in front of him. His parents were laughing with each other as they shared a joke between themselves, only stopping to point at their son once they noticed that he was devouring his mashed potatoes at lightning-speed. Susan smiled as she used a napkin to gently remove the lump of mashed potato that had landed on her son's nose. William chirped happily and licked his gravy-laden spoon, confident that life would continue like this forever.

**Present Day**

Bill blearily opened his eyes halfway, only seeing dark figures move in front of him. His mouth felt dry, and his tongue flicked over drier lips as it roamed in search of his cigarette, realizing that it had either been removed or he had lost it in the crash. He could distantly feel the throbbing pain from his accumulated wounds on the various parts of his body as they began to smart painfully. If he wasn't so exhausted from his drained reserves of energy, it would have easily forced him into complete consciousness. Voices were speaking, though he could hardly understand their conversation.

"Think he's...?" a female voice asked, concern evident in her voice.  
>"...took a large hit..." a male voice answered, moving out of Bill's range of vision.<br>"Can't just leave..." another male voice, so familiar, angrily replied.  
>"Bill? ... with me? Can you..." his body was lightly shaken, but Bill found no words escaping his throat when he tried to answer.<br>"Come on man, don't do this..."  
>"...Zoey... pick him..."<br>"Factory just... hide... safe..."

He was slightly aware of his body was being dragged along with one of his arms slung across somebody's shoulders before he was set onto the ground. Somebody clad in red then surrounded his vision. One of his arms was lifted up as sterile gauze was wrapped around it to impede his bleeding. A cool hand was pressed against his forehead before he wearily closed his eyes and everything faded into the dark once more.

* * *

><p>*Rarely seen in the games, this maneuver is called the Hunter's Roll and it could happen if you melee the Hunter off of the pinned survivor instead of blasting it off at point-blank range.<br>** Yes, I know you can't set the hospital on fire and burn it to the ground in the games, but I'm doing it for the sake of burning it on a whim.  
>*** Hunters do not have eyes, therefore it is theorized that they use echolocation to navigate around, thus why they growl so much when they are mobile. I think there was an animation (later removed by the game's creators) of the Hunter hanging from a ceiling (or so the official Left 4 Dead Wikia says).<p>

Bill's short memory of one Easter was originally written for Zoey. This memory was supposed to be written earlier, when the second Tank, along with a Hunter and a Smoker, KOd the team, save for Bill.

One-shot kill for Tank inspired by EspierYoshikawa, "Hunter fail" and "ROFL Huntercopter" was inspired by Cricken2 (Left 4 Dead: Funny Moments of getting Owned Part 9 and 3, respectively). The idea of having the survivors hide in the closet was inspired by Attila16's "Left 4 Dead Walkthrough No Mercy 5 Rooftop Finale Gameplay".

Side note: Don't you find it weird that when you're navigating through the 28th level it's raining really hard, but when you reach the rooftop, the sky has cleared and there isn't any trace of rainwater on the ground? Also, if you're knocked off the building, you can't see "Mercy Hospital" or signs of the building's reconstruction on any side.


End file.
